Santa Hates Poor Kids
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: It was his first Christmas. He didn't know what to think.


**Song is "Santa Hates Poor Kids" by yourfavoritemartian. This song is so sad… It made me get teary… Oh well… **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the song or characters. **

_Santa must hate the poor kids… 'cause Santa only hangs with the rich. Santa hates poor kids! Santa hates poor kids… and if you ain't got me, then he ain't coming. Nothing under your tree tonight! Santa hates poor kids… _

Dick stared at the living room in the Wayne Manor, his eyes wide with surprise. There, standing tall and proud, was the biggest and greenest Christmas tree he had ever seen. A star stood on the top, colorful lights wound around it carefully, colorful bulbs placed in the perfect places. Presents lay under the tree, wrapped in fancy wrapping paper and topped with big, obnoxious bows. Green tinsel lined the mantle, woven in and out of the three stockings that were accurately labeled. Little fake snowmen and barns with the manger scene were scattered on every counter top. Good smelling candles were set every five feet on a ledge somewhere, burning bright. A fire burnt in the mantle, glowing the brightest of it all and crackling sweetly.

When Alfred saw his 'grandson's expression, he couldn't help but warmly chuckle. "Something wrong, Master Richard? Haven't you ever seen Christmas?"

The recent-turned ebony staggered back, curling his hands with fear and bringing them up to protect himself. He averted his eyes sadly, biting his lip roughly.

"We never… we never really had Christmas," he mumbled under his breath, his eyes growing wet.

Alfred's eyes widened before he raised an eyebrow. "Never had Christmas?"

Dick turned away from the beautiful scene, lowering his hands and grabbing his opposite elbow shyly.

"Matt always used to say that Santa hated the poor kids… He never visited us… We always made him cookies though…" he took a choky breath before quickly dashing up the stairs.

"M-Master Richard!" Alfred yelled after the nine year old, clearly distraught. **[1]**

The boy was obviously long gone though. Alfred intended to sigh deeply, but Bruce beat him to it as he came out from hiding in the kitchen.

"I… I thought he'd like it," Bruce said brokenly, bowing his head.

Alfred walked up to him and hugged him fatherly-like, patting his back.

"Please don't fret yourself, Master Bruce. He's still upset. Give him time," Alfred tried to assure his 'son'.

The hug only seemed to worsen things.

"How much time? It took me… it took me my whole life. Mind you, I was… after vengeance… but Dick is so… sensitive… I just want him to be happy," Bruce forced a weak laugh, frowning in sorrow.

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed. It hadn't even been a month and Bruce was already attached to the boy. This was the fastest he had adapted to someone and actually cared for them.

"He will be!" he insisted, backing up, "Let's just go make some hot cocoa. He'll come around."

Bruce weakly followed the old man into the kitchen, but his heart was still in his shoes.

"What if he doesn't come around? I don't want him to be like… like me… He deserves so much more!" the older ebony ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily again.

Alfred said nothing as he got into the cabinet, after the hot cocoa packets. Bruce got up into the cabinets, bringing down three mugs, just in case.

"You aren't as bad as you think," Alfred scolded gently, setting a hand to Bruce's shoulder. "You just wanted revenge. There's nothing wrong with that."

Bruce took the kettle from the stove and filled it with water.

"I lost my childhood because I was chasing down a guy who I never found. That boy… he has potential. He can actually _be_something!"

"_You_had potential. _You_became something! Look at yourself! You're Bruce Wayne; a multimillionaire _and_a hero! That's every kid's dream!" Alfred pointed out, turning the boiler on.

Bruce rolled his eyes, switching off the faucet and slipping the kettle onto the stove. He carefully crossed the room to go sit at the kitchen table. Alfred walked after him, sitting across from him.

"Pretty awful dream. Why can't they want to be policemen or soldiers? They'd still be heroes at least," Bruce crossly folded his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair.

Alfred shrugged lazily, weakly smiling. He set a hand to Bruce's, but only to regain the eye contact.

"It's Christmas Bruce. Don't be like this. You're not setting a good example for you-know-who," Alfred's eyes darted to the ceiling.

Bruce sighed weakly, blinking hard for the longest time. Then, he abruptly stood to his feet.

"I'm going to go get him. I feel like… I should apologize," Bruce ignored the surprised look Alfred gave him at the 'magic a word' that usually never slipped from his lips.

He turned around, nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw his new ward hiding in the doorway.

"No need to apologize," Dick said softly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Bruce couldn't help but crack a smile as a one crossed the new addition's face.

"Thanks for the Christmas thing in the living room… it means a lot," Dick continued, slowly creeping into the room. "I'm just not used to it. Mom and Dad never had a lot of money and we couldn't afford anything… We were always moving too, so they said Santa could never find us. I've never had an official Christmas… It's really nice of you both… Really!"

Bruce met Dick in the middle of the floor and the two locked gazes for the longest time. In those stares, a million words were exchanged without a single word having to be uttered. Then, they both smiled ear-to-ear and walked back to join Alfred.

**[1] Please take note that this happened long before he began to play with words. **

**Look up the song. It cusses, sorry. It's really sad though. It made me feel bad for celebrating Christmas. There are two God references, Rawr, but it's sad. Hope ya'll like this. I figured the circus doesn't pay well. And get used to Matt references. Christmas requests would be loved. I already have one planned for "I'll be home for Christmas" and "Mistletoe". Review?**

**-F.J. **


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